


Impasse

by Vermillion Jay (krolium)



Series: Old Requests [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, with minimal hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krolium/pseuds/Vermillion%20Jay
Summary: Usually, one of America's favorite things about Germany was his hard-working nature. Not today, though.America can't concentrate. Luckily, his boyfriend is there to help.





	Impasse

**Author's Note:**

> An old Tumblr request from 2016. The prompt for this one was "I'm not cut out for this + GerAme", and I revised some things before posting it on here. I'm still getting used to writing Germany, so don't expect him to be perfectly in-character . I'm just trying my best :D

Usually, one of America's favorite things about Germany was his hard-working nature. Not today, though.

He took off his glasses, rubbing the ridge of his nose as he let out an impatient sigh – impatience entirely directed at himself, with no possible release. Ever since they’d begun dating, Germany and America had balanced each other out quite nicely, giving and taking and compromising so that each would be better off in the end. America would be the one to make sure Germany didn’t forget to have fun, dragging him to the movies for the next big superhero movie or taking him out for a game of laser tag (a game that Germany would not have discovered otherwise, but had quickly become one of his favorite leisure activity). Often, America noticed that his boyfriend was happier and less likely to get worked up if he got some time to goof off every so often.

It would’ve been great if it worked both ways. Perhaps, he wouldn’t feel so inadequate all the time if Germany's determination had rubbed off on him. America had a very difficult time concentrating on- well, _anything,_ actually. Though Germany had tried to help, giving him timetables and neat, distraction-free working spaces, it still usually took America about twenty minutes to do ten minute’s work.

Shaking his head, America placed the glasses back over his nose and stared at the papers in front of him.

And stared.

And stared.

It was almost like he’d forgotten how to read. Perhaps he had (wow, now that’d be fun to explain to his boss).

But, no, he could hear the words in his mind, sound them out, recognize them. He just didn’t know how to concentrate on them long enough to make any sense of them.

“I brought coffee,” Germany called out, cool and concise, as he swung open the door, which gently hit the door-stopper as the man walked up to America’s desk. He gingerly set a mug of steaming coffee next to the papers, and America suspected that Germany was eagerly waiting for his usual bright displays of gratitude. Usually, America would take a sip and immediately proclaim the coffee "super awesome", or something to that effect. On a particularly good day, Germany's coffee would earn the title of Best Coffee on the Planet, and Germany would roll his eyes as he pretended not to be flattered.

Unfortunately, Germany got no such response.

“No thanks,” America replied brusquely, shoving the coffee away with an involuntary sneer as he turned back to his work.

He had plenty of energy. What he needed was the ability to focus, and caffeine wouldn’t help one whit.

Germany’s brow furrowed as he picked up the offending drink and took a sip himself. “Are you alright? There isn’t any bad news in these papers, is there?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, temper finally flaring. It almost felt good to yell at his boyfriend, though the aftershocks of guilt outweighed any momentary pleasure. Frustration boiled like a bad sore under his skin, festering and festering until he had no other release. “I’ve been staring at this for half an hour and I’m only on page three!”

“Really?” was all Germany could come up with in reply.

There was no doubt in America’s mind that Germany would have thought up something better to say had he given him the time to think of something (the man was rather awkward, and sometimes he just needed a moment to put his thoughts together). However, he had lost patience with his lover, his paperwork, and that damned coffee Germany had probably made from fresh, organic, high-quality coffee beans rather than that instant shit America was so accustomed to making. It was all too perfect for him. He didn't deserve it.

More than anything, he’d lost patience with himself.

“Fuck you, Germany!" he cried, though he didn't mean it. "How do you do this for hours on end? I can’t even sit still for five minutes without feeling like I’m trapped in a prison cell, reading some language I’ve never seen before!”

“Well-”

“This isn’t supposed to be hard! Look at the title! _Positive and Negative Implications of a Soda Tax_ _?"_  He waved the comically large stack of papers under Germany’s nose, and watched his boyfriend’s eyes widen in apprehension. “This is busywork! They’ve relegated me to busywork, and I still can’t do it!”

“America-”

“Screw it!” America yelled, slamming the papers down on the table as he jumped to his feet, chair falling back and hitting the floor with a loud whack! “I’m not cut out for this!”

He clenched his jaw, hoping to hell that his glasses obscured the angry tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks. The disgusting look of sympathy in Germany’s eyes made bile crawl up his throat, and suddenly, the dull, wooden floor of his office seemed much more interesting than his boyfriend’s own beautiful face.

Germany let out a sigh – not a weary one like England’s when he was trying to reign in his temper, but a solemn one that showed he was deep in thought.

After a moment of impasse (America being worked up into a furious silence, and Germany trying to piece together his thoughts), Germany finally resolved to set the coffee down on the edge of the desk. He pulled up a chair, setting it next to America’s, and sat down in it.

With only a moment of hesitation, Germany swiveled America away from his desk until they were facing each other. He laced their fingers together, and carefully brought America’s left hand to his mouth, leaving a light kiss across the top of it. “You can always tell when I need to take more breaks, but you never know when you need to loosen up. The only reason you can’t get this done is because it’s so boring. You need to be doing something interesting to concentrate properly.”

“But I need to get it done. It’s my job.”

“You’ll never get it done at this rate. You need to…” He trailed off, words failing him.

“What, learn how to do my own work, just like you?” he shot back. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Turns out heroes don’t do paperwork.”

Germany shook his head. “That’s it. That mindset is all wrong. Do you really compare yourself to me every time you try to accomplish something boring?”

“Maybe?”

“You’re America, not me,” he said, almost cracking a smile. “You’re an inventor and a strategist. You weren’t designed to sit in a chair and read official documents. That’s not necessarily a bad thing (we need inventors and strategists), but it means that you can’t get so worked up about being a slow reader. Why don’t we take a break?”

America blinked. “Did you just ask me to take a break?”

“I did. Please just go on a run with me or something. We can walk the dogs.”

True to his nature, that was all the distraction America needed. “Ooh, that sounds fun! I bet I can beat Prussia’s 6-minute mile from last time.”

“Well, probably not with the dogs-”

“Challenge accepted!” America exclaimed, and everything was back to normal. Maybe later, Germany could read the documents to him like a bedtime story. It would probably sound a lot cooler (and sexier) in his boyfriend's voice.

For now, he was content to walk the dogs with Germany.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember noting "sorry for the lame document title" at the end of the original, and yet. uh. here i am, two years later, researching this exact issue for my political science major. go frickin' figure.


End file.
